


Nightfall

by stainedglassflood



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Bickering, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Watford Third Year, approximately, baz is SO annoying in this i love him but i'm also sorry for inflicting this on the world, i can only write beginnings and i'm making that everyone else's problem, i guess??? it's lighthearted anyway, i wrote most of this months before anything else i've posted i just only just remembered it existed, the wavering wood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 07:24:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20042146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stainedglassflood/pseuds/stainedglassflood
Summary: “What are you doing?” Simon demanded, fists clenching around his sword’s hilt.Baz raised an eyebrow and leaned against a tree, folding his arms. “I’m going for a stroll through the grounds, Snow. Thought I might smell some roses.”“Why are youfollowingme?”Baz wrinkled his nose. “Please. Why would anyone want to followyou?”He always did this. Right when Simon had him, caught red handed, kneeling behind a statue with his ear to a door – “Who do you think you are, Snow? This poison is a family heirloom. You’re intruding on my slinking-around-looking-villainous time.”--Simon and Baz get lost in the Wavering Wood.





	Nightfall

**Author's Note:**

> hi again. what is this? excellent question. where have i been? who can say. will this or either of my other stories ever be updated? reply hazy, try again.  
i'm sorry. i'm just... an /ideas/ person, you know? (that last statement was meant to be ironic, but honestly, it applies played completely straight.) hope you like whatever this is.

Night was drawing in, and Simon Snow was lost.

Well… no. He wouldn’t say _lost_, exactly. He was… off course. Between destinations. What did Penelope say – ‘temporally challenged’?

Maybe that was ‘short’.

Anyway. Simon Snow was _not_ lost, because this was the Wavering Wood, and he was the Chosen One and the Mage’s Heir, and prophesied heroes _d__id__ not_ get lost in the trees behind their school. Even if those trees happened to be ancient, and hid Merlin know how many kinds of magickal creatures, and tried to wrap their roots around your feet if you looked too ‘ensnarable’.

And if Simon wasn’t lost, then it was perfectly reasonable for him to keep looking. Just as long as the sun was up. He still wasn’t sure _what_ he was looking for, but he’d never let the Mage down before, so he was going to find it.

He’d found something, at least. (Actually, he’d found a few things, but neither a scuttling tree stump nor a foul-mouthed crow really fitted his idea of a ‘selkie-silk cloak’.) (Did selkies even make cloaks?)

But this grove – a twisted circle of trees, arching up around an ancient weeping willow that sheltered the clearing like a curtain – this seemed promising. There was that feeling in the air – ambient magic. The whole Wood glowed with it (the whole of _Watford_ did), but in some places, it felt… closer.

The only problem was, he was being followed.

He hadn’t been sure at first – the Wood was full of strange noises, was even known to laugh behind your back if you seemed too jumpy – but there was always that _feeling_. That chill on his neck. And glimpses, out of the corner of his eye – flashes of scarlet, purple and black. And of course, once he’d reached the Willow Grove… it would be almost impossible to pass through the curtain of branches unnoticed. Any movement would create ripples.

So when Simon knelt down to look closer at a circle of mushrooms on the forest floor, he wasn’t surprised to hear a whisper of brushed leaves behind him. And when he leapt up and whirled around with his sword drawn, he wasn’t surprised to find something looking back.

He _was_ surprised that it was one of his classmates.

But once that had sunk in, he was not _remotely_ surprised that that classmate was Basilton Pitch.

“What are you doing?” Simon demanded, fists clenching around his sword’s hilt.

Baz raised an eyebrow and leaned against a tree, folding his arms. “I’m going for a stroll through the grounds, Snow. Thought I might smell some roses.”

“Why are you _following_ me?”

Baz wrinkled his nose. “Please. Why would anyone want to follow _you_?”

He always did this. Right when Simon had him, caught red handed, kneeling behind a statue with his ear to a door – “_Who do you think you are, Snow? __This poison is a family heirloom. __You’re __intruding on__ my slinking-around-looking-__villainous__ time_.”

(Basilton always looked _excessively_ villainous. Pointy shoes, slicked-back hair, collar of his cape turned up like a shark’s fin. Even his scarf looked like a cashmere bloodstain, just in case anyone had missed the point.)

Simon set his jaw and glared. “If you’re up to something, I’ll find out. I always find out.”

Baz smiled condescendingly. “Well, when you discover my nefarious plan, do let me know what it is. I’ve been wondering what I should do all weekend without my dim-witted roommate there to bother me.”

“That’s not fair! You-”

“-The dean of students and _headmaster_ seem to think it is, actually.” Baz brushed some pine needles off his cape, smirking to himself as his roommate bristled. “It was heartbreaking, really. He looked so-”

“Why are you here?” Simon snapped. “What do you _want_?”

Baz sighed one of his teacher-charming _Snow’s-just-being-childish-__sir_ sighs. (Simon fought the urge to snap his perfectly straight nose.) “I want you to stop flinging ludicrous accusations at me every time you’re frustrated. And to learn to apologise when everyone agrees you were wrong.”

Simon opened his mouth, then closed it, shaking his head hard. “Stop distracting me. You only pick fights when you have something to hide.”

“You pick far more fights than I do.”

“Well, if you weren’t such a villain, I wouldn’t have to hide anything!” Simon forced himself to concentrate, scanning the glade through the corners of his eyes, then fixed his gaze back on Baz.

Despite all evidence to the contrary, the Pitch heir always managed to seem like the most dangerous thing in the Wood. There was no way Simon could let him find out anything – but he wouldn’t dare let him out of sight either. For an uneasy moment, Simon felt his magic sparking with anger at the Mage. His quests would go so much more smoothly if his mentor could just admit that his roommate was a scheming, back-stabbing, cold-blooded, snake-tongued-

_ Look at the facts, Simon,_ Penny tutted in his head.

The facts were that Baz was evil.

_ But what has he actually **done**? You need specific evidence._

Simon had more evidence than Fenrir had fleas.

_ Evidence of something worse than spelling your homework to the ceiling._

But perhaps the universe was about to give Simon some evidence, because Baz was straightening up, curling his fingers, something crackling and flickering in his hands-

Simon dove at Baz, who ducked away, forcing Simon to spin around.

“You stupid, evil-”

“What do you think you’re _doing_?” Baz spat across him, cradling the flame against his chest like it was a puppy Simon had tried to kick.

“What am_ I_ doing? You’re trying to burn down the woods!”

Baz stared at Simon for a second, then sniffed. “You’re far closer to that than I am, Chosen One. Can’t you go five minutes without blundering back into the fire-and-brimstone routine?”

Simon opened his mouth, but no words came, so he just growled and looked around, tangling his fingers in his hair.

The sun was below the horizon, now. He hadn’t noticed the light going – but maybe he’d only seen the woods daylit because that was what he expected to see. (His magic was funny like that.) And there _was_ smoke in the air, now he thought of it.

Sometimes Simon felt like the only thing worse than Baz scheming was Baz being _right_ about something.

He chewed his lip, trying not to fume where Baz could see him, and decided it was probably best to just listen to Penny tutting in his head, and _just walk away_. (Storm away.) He wasn’t going to get anything done with Baz there, even if he was just examining the trees (which might actually lead to disaster, but that was a problem for Future Simon), and the drawbridge would be closing soon. And some small part of him would be relieved not to spend any more of the night in the Woods.

The only problem was, when he tried to shove through the curtain of branches, his shoulder slammed into stone.

“Christ! Merlin and Morgana and- what the _hell_?”

Baz whipped around, then remembered to laugh. “Are you walking into trees now? You’ll have to watch out; the Woods are full of them. Maybe the Mage should keep you on a leash just in case-”

Simon rubbed his shoulder and groaned. “Shut _up_. It was the canopy – it’s like rock.”

Baz gave Simon a disbelieving look. “This is the _Wavering_ Wood, not the Iron Wood.”

Simon snarled through his teeth, grabbed Baz by the wrist and pulled him into the canopy.

Baz shoved Simon back reflexively, grabbing his shoulders and pinning him against the wall, then seemed to finally notice _what_ the wall was made of.

Twisted, knotted branches, barring their way out.

His eyes widened, and he stepped back, craning his neck and turning on the spot. A flock of birds took flight, screeching, and Baz and Simon looked at each other. Simon’s shoulders hunched. Baz’s arms folded over his torso.

They were trapped.


End file.
